


Gang aft agley

by Tabithian



Series: Drake Investigations [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU - Comicverse, Nightwing (Comic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-18
Updated: 2012-06-18
Packaged: 2017-11-08 00:36:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/437157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim wonders, sometimes, how these people find him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gang aft agley

Tim wonders, sometimes, how these people find him. He's certainly not the only private detective in Gotham, and yet. The odds of someone walking into Drake investigations and asking him to determine if their loved one is cheating, or if this person is a long-lost relative or charlatan are much lower than people like his current visitor.

"I need your help!" He's a thin, desperate man who looks to be a few years older than Tim, a little taller and also, did Tim mention, desperate. 

"How can I help you?" 

"I." The man swallows, nervous. "I think someone's trying to kill me."

Ah. "Have you tried going to the police with this?" Even though Tim knows it's pointless, he has to ask. 

The man shakes his head, starts to pace. "I can't, I can't." He paces to the back of the office, away from the windows. "My family. There's an inheritance." Back towards Tim, rubbing his arms with his hands. "I'm the oldest, and my family." He gives Tim a weak smile. "They're not happy about it."

Tim sighs inwardly. "Tell me what you know," he says, gesturing the chair across from his desk. "Mr. - "

The man looks at Tim, something like hope in his eyes. "Miller," he says, coming over. "Jonathan Miller."

********

"I'm working on a case," Tim says, guilty. "Sorry, sorry." He's late for a very important date, and maybe he shouldn't let Tam watch _Alice in Wonderland_ in the office when he's working. 

Dick smiles, says, "Hey, it's weird, but I'm fairly certain that sounds like me." 

Well, sort of. It sounds like both of them because they're the kind of people who does things like this. "Just a little," Tim says, smiling.

"Can you tell me about it?" 

Tim thinks about it. Maybe? "It's an inheritance case." Sort of. Sometimes it's better if he doesn't tell Dick everything about the cases he takes. Not lying, exactly, because that's always a terrible idea with a Bat, but. Yes.

Dick gives him a look because he knows how Tim lies. "Really."

Tim smiles. "Yeah. Nothing to worry about." Yet.

Dick snorts, but doesn't push. Yet.

********

"Tam - "

"No."

"...Please."

" _No_."

Tam's leaning against the filing cabinet with her arms crossed and looking displeased. "Tim, you need to be at this meeting on Monday, and no," she says, pointing at Tim. "We can't reschedule. The representatives are doing us a huge favor by agreeing to the meeting at all."

Tim knows that, he does. He has a responsibility to Drake Industries, even more now that his parents are. Well, more or less out of the picture, and. "This is important." He may have a lead, something to help him wrap this case up.

"The company is important too, Tim." Soft, pointed.

Tim looks away, gaze landing on the files covering his desk. Makes a decision. "You're right, Tam." There was never any arguing about that, but. Tim starts cleaning up, putting his files back in order, cleaning up. There's still time before Monday.

"Tim?" 

"There's something I need to check," he says, sliding his files into his bag before pulling it over his shoulder. "I'll be at the meeting, I promise."

"Tim, be careful," Tam says, "or else."

That gets a laugh out of him. "Promise."

********

"So," Dick says. "I'm working on a case."

"You don't say," Tim says. He can hear Dick fighting, can hear blows landing and - 

"Are you being shot at?"

"A little bit, yeah," Dick answers, sounding _cheerful_ about it. "Guess who gave me a call this afternoon."

Tim rolls his eyes. "Tam?"

"Oh, wait a second - " There's a resounding crash, metal against metal followed by a pained groan. "Okay, where were we?" Dick says, sounding all too happy with himself.

Tim sighs, corner of his mouth twitching. "You were telling me Tam called you to remind me about Monday's meeting."

"Bingo," Dick says, and then, "She knows it's Sunday, right?"

Tim smiles. "She worries." 

He can hear the smiles in Dick's voice. "Hey, so. Sorry about tonight." Tim can't hear the sound of gunfire, so that's one less thing to worry about.

Tim would be upset, maybe, if he didn't understand, or do the same thing to Dick on occasion. As it is, he doesn't have room to talk since he'd taken advantage of their canceled date to do a little more digging on his own case. Opportunity and all that. "Well, this is sort of like a date?" Only the two of them, really. 

Dick snorts. "Oh, Timmy. If you think this is a date...that's just sad."

That's a matter of opinion, but. "Then we're just going to have to do better, aren't we?" If Tim listens closely he can hear the sound of rushing air, Dick must be swinging across the rooftops now. 

Laughter, and then, "Sounds like a date, Timmy."

********

Tim has a meeting with important people in the morning. People that could mean the difference between success and failure for Drake Industries, and yet.

"You neglected to mention the others," Tim says remarkably calmly. Over the last few months several people have gone missing, presumably kidnapped in return for a certain amount of money as ransom. Strangely enough, roughly the sum of money they would have received via inheritance. In a fair world, as things like that go, that should have worked.

Jonathan looks at him, pale and terrified. He knows what happened to the other kidnapping victims. "I didn't realize," he says. "I didn't think it was connected. There was nothing in the news about it."

No, and that's a little odd, isn't it? True, the people involved weren't on the level of say, the Drakes or even the Waynes, but there was a substantial amount of money involved. "So it's all a coincidence, then?" Tim asks. "Really?"

Miller shakes his head, wrings his hands. "N-no? I don't know. Just. My sister, she's the one who told me. I didn't even know the others."

The only connecting factor had been the matter of inheritance, tangled and ugly, looking to get worse for each family "Your sister," Tim says. "The same one that your parents considered, what was it? Unsuitable?"

Miller just nods, nervous and twitchy. "I don't understand why, she. He shakes his head. “She was always the one who was most involved in their charities."

Hmm. Yes. But she did it on her own terms, without acceding to the demands of their parents, was making a name for herself without consulting them. And there was the matter of her criminal record, nothing serious, just civil protest that had gotten out of hand. An embarrassment for her family, nevertheless.

"Mr. Miller - "

Tim twists around at the sound of breaking glass coming from down the hall. Stupid, so stupid. "Is there somewhere you can hide?" he asks, grabbing Miller's arm and pushing him out of the room, deeper into the mansion. 

"What? I - "

" _Hide_ ," Tim hisses, dragging Miller now, shoving him towards the stairs. "Call the police, don't come out until they get here."

Miller stares at him with wide eyes as he fumbles his cell phone out of his pocket. "What about you?"

Tim smiles, it feels wrong, too many teeth. "Don't worry about me," he says, turning back the way they came. "I'm not the one they want." And there's every chance that's actually a bad thing, but there's no time to worry about that now.

********

As it turns out, maybe Tim should have worried. Or not. It's a little complicated.

*******

Tim's starting to think he should contact Lois Lane and form some kind of anti-damsel in distress support group - he's heard stories about her, he thinks she'd appreciate it. Or maybe not that, but definitely _something_ because this is just getting ridiculous. 

"Look, Mr. - " Tim squints at the main thug looking for an identifying feature. "Mr. Muscles, I think you have the wrong guy." For once, it's true. "I'm not - "

"Shut up!" Mr. Muscles yells, throwing his coffee at Tim. 

The bars of the cell they'd rigged up stop the mug, but not the coffee, and so. Tim sighs, grateful that at least the coffee was cold, and bends his neck to wipe his face on the shoulder of his jacket. He's tied up, hands behind his back and for once they did a good job. Also, he's a little hurt, and a lot tired, and just. Not his day, really. Plus, he is _not_ a damsel in distress.

"You better hope they have the money, kid." Mr. Muscle's buddy smiles at him, gap-toothed and ugly. "Otherwise - " Gap-tooth draws his hand across his throat in a slicing motion, because Tim's current kidnappers are out of of some terrible 80s movie.

"Yes, well." Tim probably shouldn't do this, is almost certainly going to make things worse, but. "I hate to tell you guys this," not really, "but I'm not Jonathan Miller." 

Mr. Muscles and Gap-tooth look at him like they don't believe him, which. Fair enough, Tim wouldn't either.

"Better hope you are, kid," Mr. Muscles says, "better hope you are."

And. Wow. Tim would have thought they couldn't get any more cliche, but the whole licking a knife menacingly thin is kind of a classic, so. "Oh, nice." Tim usually isn't this stupid. "Gold star."

Mr. Muscles frowns. "Are you stupid?"

Well, sometimes. "Occasionally," Tim says.

Mr. Muscles glares, still holding the knife - it's huge, which may mean he's compensating for something or just really, really likes knives. Tim can relate, knives are pretty neat.

"You." Mr. Muscles turns to the third member of the kidnapping trio, a lean guy with scraggly hair and patchwork coat. "Keep an eye on him." Then he turns to leave, Gap-tooth following.

Tim sighs, leans back against the wall and looks at Patchwork. Waits until he hears the outer doors clang shut. "So." Tim wriggles a little, testing the ropes. "You probably weren't expecting this." 

Patchwork rolls his eyes. "And you say _I'm_ the idiot in this relationship."

Tim shrugs, watches Patchwork - Nightwing, _Dick_ \- pulls something out of one of his coat pockets. "Hey, don't pin this one on me. It's not my fault your buddies are idiots." It really isn't. It's actually kind of embarrassing to be kidnapped by people who grab the wrong person.

"Wait."

"No," Tim says, at the look on Dick's face, hands hovering over the lock to the cell. "Dick, no."

"Tim - "

"I have a meeting in the morning, Dick!" Tim's priorities are maybe, maybe, just a little off. "Tam is going to kill me if I miss it!" 

"Tim," Dick says patiently. "Do those morons look like they could pull off a kidnapping ring?"

Tim just looks at Dick. "They grabbed me by mistake, Dick. What do _you_ think?"

Dick just looks at Tim. "Well maybe if you hadn't hidden Miller, they wouldn't have grabbed you."

"He's my client, Dick. You may not realize this, but it's generally considered bad business to let your client get kidnapped in front of you." And also. "You know I hate it when our cases overlap, right?" Tim asks, sighing. Mostly because it ends up with Tim playing not-actually damsel in distress and Dick, or Jason, or, God, _Damian_ , coming to his rescue. Which, seriously, not needed, Tim can take care of himself.

"You know I hate it when you antagonize people who wouldn't mind killing you, right?" Dick counters, but there's a hint of a smile in his voice. 

"Dick." 

Tim doesn't know what to say, really. It's not as though he asks for these things to happen, and okay, sure. Maybe mouthing off to his kidnapper of the day is a bad idea, but the thing it, Tim actually can take care of himself. He may not have Dick's training, but he knows how to fight, and he's smart. 

...Most of the time, anyway.

"If it helps," Tim says after a long moment. "I had a plan to get out of here before you showed up." A terrible plan, it's true, but so many of them often are.

Dick rolls his eyes, or really, just the one because Patchwork apparently thinks he's a pirate. 

"Nice eye-patch, by the way."

"Tim," Dick says, serious now. "Are you okay with this?"

With being kidnapped yet again? No. With helping Dick track down the head of the kidnapping ring Tim managed to stumble into? Sure. Why not. He has a pretty good idea who the ringleader is, but it never hurts to be sure. "You have to explain to Tam why I missed the meeting," he says, because there's no other choice here. If they spook whoever is in charge, the whole ring will go so far underground they won't be able to find them again. 

Dick looks at him, worried, not liking this one damn bit.

"Give me your picks," Tim says, and holds his hand out. Mr. Muscles and Gap-tooth may have done a good job with the ropes, but Tim's pretty good himself. 

Dick smiles. "Getting better, Timmy, getting better." He hands the lock-picks over to Tim, watching as Tim secrets them away. Frowns. "Be careful, okay? Try not to make them mad." Pauses. "Too mad," he amends, because he knows Tim.

Tim makes a face and turns around, gets as close to the bars as he can and waggles his hands at Dick, rope held in one hand. "Make me pretty?" he asks, getting an actual laugh out of Dick.

"Best date ever," Dick says, securing the ropes.

"Shut up," Tim says, laughing a little. "You're an idiot." He really, really is. 

"Hey," Dick squeezes his shoulder. "Everything's going to be fine."

Tim. Oh, God. Does Dick not realize what a bad idea it is to say something like that? _Ever_? "I'll just have to take your word for that," he says, testing the ropes. Just loose enough that he can get free easily enough if needed. 

Dick smiles at him. "Trust me," Dick says, like he's never heard of bad luck or Murphy's Law or, really, _Gotham_. Tim realizes it's not Gotham herself that's to blame, so much as it the crazies she harbors. Still.

********

Tim blames Dick for pretty much everything that happens after that point.

********

They find out who the brains behind the kidnapping ring, sure, but not before Dick gets made and thrown into a cage, what the hell. Tim doesn't even know what gives him away, or if the ringleader is just a giant ball of raging paranoia about the new guy in the operation. 

Also, there are cliché underground lairs to go along with horrible villain reveals. 

The mastermind throws up her arm, pointing at Tim. "You!" her voice echoes around them, down the abandoned subway tunnels.

Tim's actually embarrassed for her. "You must be Jonathan's sister." 

Not the smartest thing, what he's doing, considering he's still tied up. Or tied up again, because Mr. Muscles had half a brain and checked the ropes after they'd tosses Dick into the cage. He hadn't been pleased with what he found.

"What?" Dick is pressed against the bars of his cage looking a little manic. For a Bat, at any rate. 

"You don't want to know," Tim reassures him. " _I_ don't want to know." It's like the plot of a bad movie, or one of Tam's romance novels. Not that Tim's ever read them in a fit of boredom.

Sharon shrieks, angry and _spoiled_ , "Stop him!" 

Tim winces, God, what is this, and then there's fighting. Mr. Muscles and Gap-tooth, who after his fight with Dick is more like Toothless. Miller's sister does the smart thing and flees down one of the tunnels, which. Not a concern, now they know who to look for she won't stay hidden for long.

"Hey, ugly!" Tim says it more to see which one of them will respond, and oh, hey. They _both_ do. Dick laughs because really? And then they're on him.

They're bar brawlers, all brute strength and force, but they're bigger and stronger than him and Tim's not running at a hundred percent. He leads them around the room, scaling rubble and shattered stone. Rusting benches and debris from years of disuse.

Tim doesn't have Dick's training, no, but he's far from helpless. Dodge, feint, strike. Run, slide, use the momentum and back up. Take the hit, use it, and there, piece of rebar. Turn, swing, and the thug formerly known as Gap-tooth goes down. Shift his weight, turn, kick, and Mr. Muscles goes down, breathe, breathe, _breathe_. 

"Tim?" Dick sounds worried. Really, really worried. Tim doesn't blame him, because.

"I'm okay," Tim says, leaning heavily against a ruined pillar. "Mostly." Gap-tooth got in a good hit at Tim's head, and the foot he used to kick Mr. Muscles in the face with. It feels. Broken, maybe, because Tim is missing a shoe, and he doesn't remember how that happened. A mystery for the ages, he's sure.

"You don't look okay to me," Dick says.

Well, _no_. Not so much. "You know, Dick," Tim says, making sure Gap-tooth's down for the count. "I'm not actually a damsel in distress." He thinks, but can't be sure he doesn't actually add, "And neither is Lois," but things are a little fuzzy around the edges, and also, _ow_ , his head. 

"Tim - "

"I mean I can appreciate a good last-minute rescue as much as the next guy, but." Tim's losing his train of thought. "Just. No dresses." Tim may need to get his head checked later. Possibly.

"All right, Tim," Dick says, definitely worried.

"Shut it," Tim says, making his way to where Dick's locked up. Small, far too small, _Tiny_. He can feel Dick watching him as he gets the picks out, biting his lip for focus as he works on the lock. Locks, one at the top, one at the bottom. Easy. he can do this. "I can do this." 

"Of course you can," Dick says.

Tim smiles, faintly. He can, but the fact that things are fuzzy on the edges doesn't help. "You owe me dinner for this, by the way."

"Oh?" 

"Yeah," Tim leans forward, closes his eyes because they're useless for this now. "I mean, I let you tie me up and everything, that at least deserves dinner." 

_Click_. One down, one to go.

Dick laughs, warm, amused. 

"Yeah, see?" Tim asks, frowning because the second lock is harder, it's always harder. "Also, you still have to explain to Tam why I missed the meeting." Dick may not think so, but Tam is downright terrifying. Forget Batman, an angry Tam is the thing of nightmares. 

"Okay," Dick says. "I just don't see what the big deal is. Tam's a sweetheart."

Oh, she is. A sweetheart who's just as happy to rip your still beating heart out of your chest when you make her angry as yell at you, and missing an important business meeting is not something that makes her a happy camper.

"Dinner first," Tim says, because his priorities may be a little off, but he knows better than to think Dick will survive an encounter with an angry Tam. 

_Click_ , two for two, go Tim. Just in time, too, because the fuzziness is more of a blur, turning dark, at the edges, and oh, Tim knows this. He's past his limits, time to recharge.

“Tim? Tim!” 

********

Things are kind of a blur after that. Tim remembers bits and pieces of it - Batman and his Batlings making an appearance just as they found a way through the tunnels - always with the tunnels. Gordon and his people asking questions and looking stern and confused in turns. The EMTs who'd clucked over Tim before bundling him up in an ambulance and taking him to a hospital. 

He does remember, very clearly, waking up to find Dick sitting in a chair next to his hospital bed looking tired and worried that first night. 

Remembers Dick telling him they'd found Miller's sister, that the police were using Tim's files to connect her to the previous kidnappings and murders, all fueled by her anger over being cut out of her parents' will. 

Not all of Gotham's bad guys are the same level of the Joker or Two-Face, but that doesn't mean they aren't dangerous.

Signing himself out AMA isn't the smartest thing Tim's done, but it also isn't the first time he's done it. Timing is important here, because Dick's supposed to be at work, being Officer Grayson, and Tim wants to get out of the hospital before the press gets wind of where he is and he hasn't quite got the hang of his crutches.

"Mr. Drake, do you have any words for us on your recent ordeal you'd care to share?"

Tim suspects Karma, or maybe just Dick's meddling ways. He rubs a hand over his face to hide the smile he can feel starting to form.

"Ms. Lane, correct?" he asks, as Lois walks up to him, notepad in hand. Clark's hovering slightly behind her looking sheepish and doing his best to look inconspicuous. 

He'd wonder about Lois being here, but things had turned out to be bigger than they'd expected - Tim doesn't know why he's surprised when things like that happen anymore - so of course Lois would come from Metropolis for this. Lois looks kind and sympathetic, as though she doesn't want to push for details, but is more than willing to go after the hard stories and harder truths. Tim's always liked that about her. 

"I think," he says, seeing Dick across the street looking insufferably pleased with himself, "I can manage that." Maybe he can talk to her about the support group later.


End file.
